


The Fire That Never Burns

by doctornemesis



Category: One Piece
Genre: Crew as Family, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Doubt, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Nightmares, Partying, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Tattoos, ass grabbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 12:59:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14521119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctornemesis/pseuds/doctornemesis
Summary: Late night musings lead to late night decisions. Or how Marco always knows how to find Ace when he needs him the most.---Marco, I found mercy in the comfort of your chest, and responsibility in your welcoming embrace. And when you rest your head upon mine, I find virtue in both you as well as myself. Your healer hands sooth my searing flesh, and the rhythm of your heart plays in my head the sincerest of songs. The weight of those unspoken lyrics measured in the sapphire stones of your hypnotic eyes penetrating my soul. The phoenix will rise, but you are mine...at least, for a little while yet.





	The Fire That Never Burns

**Author's Note:**

> I truly love these two. I do.

 

“You alright, yoi?”

 

You found me. Somehow, you always do. The nightmares have started up again, and I’ve found myself burning alive in my bed without the benefit of dying like a normal man should. I’ve been dreaming about my mother again, about how she must have suffered all in order to bring me into an existence I’m not sure I want, and though I try not to dwell on those I do not know, my mind always seems to wander back to my inception. I feel a little restless, a little reckless, and a lot lonely—and what a dangerous mix that could be, especially in someone a little or a whole lot like me.

 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, Old Timer?” I ask, chancing a glance in your direction. A part of me revels in the fact that you’re staring back, meeting my gaze head-on, and you must spot something lingering within them that interests you because you stare back twice as hard, making me cringe. I’ve been told that I have a bold personality, but when it comes to you, Marco, I cower behind an otherwise blistering persona.

 

“The _actual_ Old Timer is in bed, yoi. Finally,” he says, handing me a mug of grog I hadn’t noticed prior. I take the offering for what it is, a sense of camaraderie—he won’t allow me to call it pity. You insist for some reason that it’s not, though I’d wager my life on the prospect of you lying. “I’m buried up to my eyeballs in paperwork again. I can’t keep up with both the first and second divisions by myself for much longer.”

 

“Then why are you out here?” I ask, taking a sip of a particularly strong brew. I don’t know where Thatch found the stuff, but it’s potent as hell. I’d ask him in the morning if I didn’t throw myself overboard beforehand.

 

“My eyes needed the rest, yoi,” he says, giving me a sly grin as he takes a long drought from his wooden mug, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand—something highly uncharacteristic of him, I noticed. Not that I had known him for long, at this point. He appeared at ease, truly at ease, shoulders slumped instead of reared back, his purple button up hiding more of his tattoo than I would have liked as he stared out into the vast darkness that stretched out all around us.

 

“So, you came and found me instead?”

 

The smirk on his face makes my chest clench tight in a pleasant sort of discomfort. “You’re a lot easier on the eyes than Teach’s chicken scratch, yoi,” he says with a laugh, elbowing me in the arm as he does so.

 

“Do you like me, Marco?” I ask suddenly, unable to stop myself. “I mean, do you really want me to be here? On this ship?”

 

Enticing blue eyes meet my gaze, and I swear I’ll die if rejected by this man because there’s a lot I can take, but I can’t take the idea of him not wanting me in some way, shape or form. “Do I want you here? Absolutely, yes, but I also want you to want to be here, Ace. And it’d be nice if you’d quit trying to kill Pops while you’re at it, too, yoi. It’s easier to embrace someone when they’re not holding a weapon, you know?”

 

I laugh, I can’t help myself, drawn in further by the smooth quality of his voice. “I don’t need a weapon to kill a man,” I say with a rather cheeky grin, searingly hot flames emitting from the palm of my hand closest to him.

 

Marco smiles just as coy as he always does, cool blue flames emitting from the palm of his hand as he laces our fingers together. “Except, you can’t hurt me in that way,” he says, lids hooded and lips pursed. Pleased.

 

“How can I hurt you, then?” I ask, stepping closer into his personal space. Maybe I don’t want to be alone; maybe I don’t need to if Marco always happens to be near.

 

His head lolls to the side, and it reminds me of Luffy when he’s deep in thought about something he finds rather troublesome. Maybe, just maybe, I’m _that_ sort of trouble for him. “You could hurt me by refusing to bear Whitebeard’s mark,” he says, finally.     

 

I bite my lip, and notice as the reaction elicits Marco’s undivided attention. I’m a sucker for a happy ending, though, as I tilt my head just so, leaning forward halfway, hoping beyond hope; praying beyond prayer that Marco’s going to meet me somewhere in the middle—that this isn’t completely one sided. And when he does, I still can’t quite believe it. I’m _kissing_ Marco, and he’s kissing me back. If this happened to be some sort of twisted dream within a dream, I hope I never wake up.

 

“And just where, exactly, do you think that mark should be placed?” I ask, the taste of him and the remnants of strong alcohol lingering on my teeth and tongue still. Izo would call this liquid courage, but Izo wasn’t here, and so I continued to ire on the right side of danger. No one had ever accused me of acting too rationally, or rational at all—for that matter.

 

Marco appears to weigh the matter as he trails a blazing hand down the center of my bare, recently sunkissed chest as I fight not to shudder under his ministrations. “You have quite the canvas to work with, yoi,” he says, chuckling at the blush that spreads across the bridge of my nose like a wildfire at his choice of words.

 

“I don’t want to cramp your style by copying yours,” I say, feeling rather playful if but slightly childish as well. Marco doesn’t seem to mind one bit, though.  

 

“ _Hmm_ ,” Marco hums as he moves to stand behind me, deft fingers dancing along my shoulder blades as I feel him press a chaste kiss against the nape of my neck, causing me to gasp out loud in spite of myself.         

 

I drop the empty mug as my hands dash out to grip the railing with a sudden sense of urgency. My knuckles blanch in color as my hold tightens, Marco’s mouth moving further south as his hands trail up and down along my sides—my ribs an especially sensitive area he chooses to exploit. The soft blue hue of his flames cultivating a tranquil-like effect on on me unlike anything I had ever experienced before, but I yearn with nothing but absolute, lust-riddled desire within. I cry out as the blunt of his teeth skim across the flesh of my spine, my breath stuttering out as both of Marco’s hands grab a hold of my ass, giving it a firm squeeze once before backing off entirely, leaving me trembling in his wake. I feel thoroughly wrecked by the most minuscule of touches, and it’s just not fair how much sway he holds over me.   

 

“I think that’s a good place to start,” he says, giving my ass a firm smack before placing a kiss to one of my bloodied cheeks. “Goodnight, yoi. Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

 

* * *

  


“Welcome to the family, my son,” Whitebeard says, raising a full bottle of rum (much to the dismay of his nurses) up into the air with one hand, the other placed firmly upon my shoulder to the resounding cheers of my fellow brothers.

 

“That’s one hell of a tattoo ya got there, Ace!” Thatch shouts, drunk off his ass already with an arm slung over one of Izo’s narrow shoulders. Izo doesn't appear to mind much; however, one of his pistols raised high above his head in equal enthusiasm for the newest member of their family as he waves it to and fro as Jozu warns him for the fifth time in a row not to fire off another round in such close quarters unless they all wished to lose their hearing.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

 

“What do you think of Ace’s new tattoo, Marco?!” Haruta questions as the party kicks into high gear. A series of voices singing the first of many pirate-themed songs, all off key. I bow my head as I await the other man’s critique.

 

I can feel his body heat as he looms somewhere behind me, leaning in close to my ear as he whispers, “I can’t wait until it heals so that I can trace every line and intimate detail with the tip of my tongue, your naked body spread out underneath me, yoi. Welcome to the family.” I have to smile, my chest filling with pride as heat pools straight to my groin. What an unfortunate time to be so entirely turned on. 

 

“What did he say, Ace?” Haruta asks, brow furrowed as he bounces eagerly from one foot to the other.

 

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” I say before taking a sip of my first, but most certainly not my last, brew of the night. “Hell, I’ll tell you when _I’m_ older.”  

 

Marco, I found mercy in the comfort of your chest, and responsibility in your welcoming embrace. And when you rest your head upon mine, I find virtue in both you as well as myself. Your healer hands sooth my searing flesh, and the rhythm of your heart plays in my head the sincerest of songs. The weight of those unspoken lyrics measured in the sapphire stones of your hypnotic eyes penetrating my soul. The phoenix will rise, but you are mine...at least, for a little while yet.      


End file.
